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So, I move to Bend to enjoy peaceful, quiet living in the most beautiful city in America. I expect a friendly, welcoming neighborhood filled with people like me who just want to mind their own business and have a nice life. At the very least, I hope for a bunch of non-psychotic neighbors who will ignore me as they enter and exit their house via the automatic garage door. Is that asking too much? Apparently.

You see, due to the trend of buying homes just to rent them to other people and then eventually pocket the appreciation, about 1/4 of the homes on my block are rented...to kids. Twenty-somethings who seem to have no jobs and 24 hours a day to make as much ruckus as any group of people three times their size could possibly generate. There have been many such tenants, they come and they go, but my favorite is a man whom I like to call "The Yard Pisser" and his band of merry idiots.

First, his moniker comes from his nasty habit of coming home drunk about 30 minutes after the bars close. His wife (a real winner, but I'll get to that later) screams up the street at about 50 MPH to their home with their rap music playing at mach 3. She screeches the car to a halt in the driveway and opens the automatic garage door, while he simultaneously gets out of the passenger side of the vehicle, staggers to the center of the yard, whips out the hog and marks his (rented) territory. I see this at least twice a month, no telling how often it actually happens. Those are the good nights, when they go out. I guess during the off times, when they are in between welfare checks, they entertain themselves in the yard, which is worse than the nights they actually have enough money to go out.

This is something I don't understand. It's only 35 degrees here at night, so it's not as cold as it is in the daytime, but it's still not nice weather to be out in, SO WHY DON'T THEY GO INSIDE THE HOUSE? THAT'S THE BEST PART OF THE HOUSE; THE INSIDE! That's what homeless people don't have; the inside. Homeless people can hang around in front of your house all day long and it doesn't cost them a dime. You are paying for the inside of the house, SO USE IT! Use it for entertaing, for listening to goddam Slim Shady records, use it for cooking, and while your at it, USE IT TO RELIEVE YOURSELF!!!

Usually on yard nights, which usually wind up being 4-day yard weekends, the Yard Pissers begin their evenings by grilling steaks in the driveway on the little hibachi grill while blaring Eminem or Creed or Kid Rock or some other s*** that I am pretty sure no one is just dying to have to listen to. I don't know why they prefer the front yard as opposed to the backyard, which is a more traditional setting for a cookout, but I think it may have something to do with the movie "Friday" and their need to feel "ganster". Maybe they feel the need to stay in the front of the house so that they can see rival cliques of yard pisser types tryin to roll up on their set or something. Anyways, once they are all pretty well fed and filled up on MGD or Coors Light, they bring out the little 49cc "motorcycle". You know, the minibikes they sell online for $300. The ones that sound like lawnmowers. They get it out and ride it up and down and all around the neighborhood, but always remain close enough to my **** house to ensure that I am never out of range of the mowerlike motor sound. They take turns riding laps around the block, and cheer one another as each rider returns from his or her lap. This goes on for about 3 hours.

I could kinda understand the novelty of riding a motorized vehicle around if it weren't for the fact that these assholes are all about 25, and should probably be used to the thrill of operating a motor vehicle, let alone a stupid putt putt bike that goes about 17 MPH. You would think it would hold little appeal for them, being that they usually approach Yard Pisser's house at speeds of 50-70 MPH in their piece of s*** Chevy Cavaliers, but they never seem to tire of riding that goddam noisy piece of s*** around.

Next comes the dancing. Mrs. Yard Pisser looks like a cross between a Muppet and a coal miner's wife. She looks like he might have won her in a card game or something, but she apparently thinks she's pretty hot, because she is always wearing tight pants and a "shirt" that cannot contain her fat, flabby breasts. She is always ready to give her man a nice lap dance in the driveway. I am not kidding. Then, after the chair dance is over, Mr Yard Pisser will stand up and do that one dance, the only dance that all guys know, the one that basically amounts to clothed ****. This usually goes on until...the fights break out.

Of course, these aren't incredibly physically fit specimens, so no actual combat takes place. The fights are limited to each white guy standing just far enough apart to allow their raggamuffin girlfriends/wives/whatevers to stand between them and carry out their assigned female companion duties in these situations, which seems to be screeching out the following phrases in a tearful, earsplitting twangy voice:

BABY, HE AIN'T WERTH IT!!

(insert name), WHY DON'T YOU JUST COME IN THE HOUSE AND HAVE ANOTHER BEER, BABY!

(name), YEW KNO YER ON PEROLE, BABY, JUST LET IT GO!

IT'S ALL GOOD BABY, HE AIN'T NUTHIN, YEW AIN'T GOTTA DEW THIS BOO!

Of course, the women are JUST strong enough to keep their titans from clashing, and instead of finally providing a little gladitorial entertainment to their long suffering neighbors, the two assholes just stand there and exchange quotes from their favorite gangster rappers about:

How a playa handle hiz bizness,

How they finna bus a cap in you azz if you aint have no respek fo they house,

"Ni**a (both are white), I just got done biddin upstate, and I ain't afraid to go back to the pen over smokin yo azz!" (I heard it with my own ears).

One night I was in my front yard, and I heard the usual gangster screaming erupt from that part of the block. I turned around expecting to see the same old show. Instead, I saw a member of the merry idiots screaming his gangster threats of immediate physical violence into his cellphone! How exactly he was planning on delivering the promised ass whipping via the phone, I do not know. Maybe he had that phone provider with the commercial that shows the big network of guys in trucks and helicopters and all that, and he was going to send them over there. Anyways, he was in mid threat, and I swear to god, this is what I heard next:

"Yeah, an you can tell Carl I ain finna front him no twenny sack if he gonna ak like a lil ol bitch, oh what a second muffuka...hello. Yeah, I am on the other line, mom. Okay, I'll remeber,...okay, love you too...bye...Yeah, muffuka, and I finna bussa cap on yo whole set if yall wanna ak all crazy...blah blah gangster talk gangster talk gangster talk..."

Not saying I doubt it, but just for my own curiosity - what is the nearest major cross street?

Actually, I kind of believe this story. My own mother moved into a pretty nice neighborhood a few years ago, this one way out on Cottonwood Road. You know, in the sticks and away from all the city scum. The next thing she tells me is that her neighborhood is going down the drain, which I completely doubted. Then I went for a visit. Sure enough, the whole neighborhood had become infestested with cockroaches from California who had sold their 2 bedroom crackerboxes and took their winnings to Oregon.

Oregon was a nice place to grow up as a kid, but it's all **** up now. And now you know why I'm a cynic._________________evelio